Broken bonds
by syriala
Summary: Stiles was … content. He knew that this was as good as it would get since happy wasn't possible for him. Not anymore. And maybe it would even get worse from here on. Major charactere deaths


Like it says in the summary, major charactere deaths. Not described but mentioned. I don't know why I keep writing tragedies. Sorry.

Unbeta'd like always, characters don't belong to me and please let me know what you think. Enjoy.

* * *

Stiles was … content. He knew that this was as good as it would get since happy wasn't possible for him. Not anymore.

He turned around in his bed, soaking in all the warmth and he extended his hand, searching for Ian. When he found him, Ian immediately pulled him closer and Stiles snuggled against him. Stiles sighed sleepily but Ian started to wake him up. "We have to get up, sleepyhead", he said and pressed a kiss into his hairline. "Classes are not going to wait for us."

"Don't care", Stiles murmured and hid under the blanket. Ian moved away from him, taking the blanket with him and it soon got cold so Stiles turned into a little ball. "Cold", he complained. "The shower is warm", Ian said and went into the bathroom.

Stiles sighed. He knew there was no point in sleeping know, not when he was already cold and Ian was gone and, yep, right on time, the alarm went off. Sties stretched to silence it and then he practically rolled off the bed.

By the time he went into the bathroom, Ian was already done and met him at the door. "Pity that you're late. Showering alone is so boring", Ian smiled and pressed a quick kiss to Stiles mouth. "Good thing then that there are lots of showers ahead."

Ian moved to let Stiles into the bathroom but Stiles pulled him close, demanding a deep kiss. When they finally separated, Stiles noticed that know he would definitely be late for classes. He cursed and hurried into the shower while Ian chuckled and went to make breakfast.

Stiles stepped into the shower and enjoyed the warm spray. He carefully cleaned himself, being extra cautious of the scars that covered his whole body. They were angry red marks running down his legs, covering his front and back, his arms and a few even in his face. Everyone always assumed they were made by wild animals, that he got attacked or something, and Stiles never corrected them. He didn't even tell Ian that they mostly were made by humans.

He quickly pushed the memories those thoughts brought back away, concentrating on stupid things, like what to eat today and what classes he had.

When he finally got out of the shower he pointedly avoided looking in the mirror, he didn't want to see the scars there. He had looked, once, and he never wanted to see them again. And on top off that he didn't want to know how tired he looked.

Ian always fuzzed about it, asking Stiles to sleep more, to relax every now and then but he couldn't. He could imagine the circles under his eyes, though, how hollow his cheeks must be, the dark shadows around his eyes. He remembered those things form nights he spent with the pack, hunting something, or simply doing research. Now those signs came from simple nightmares.

Stiles hadn't had a good night's sleep since…. "No", he thought and mentally kicked himself. He wouldn't think about it.

He hurried to get some clothes and when he came into the kitchen, Ian was almost done with eating. "Hurry up. We have to leave in five minutes." Stiles forced a smile on his lips. "Five minutes? I could eat half a cow in five minutes." Ian laughed but Stiles knew that he didn't believe his smile. Stiles never really explained how he got the scars, or what his nightmares were about, and Ian eventually stopped asking, but Stiles saw how he often wondered or looked worried. But he never asked and that was one of the things he liked about Ian. He didn't press.

Stiles finished his breakfast in record time and they made it to their classes. As soon as Stiles entered the room he knew he should've stayed in bed. 'Bonds shared by family vs. bonds shared with friends and lovers' was the little of the lesson. Stiles cursed and debated whether to turn around and leave but before he could decide his professor appeared and ushered him to sit.

Stiles slumped into a chair and avoided to look at the presentation. He successfully ignored the professor until other students started to talk and Stiles noticed with horror that everyone gave an example of their own. Everyone said something and they were slowly getting closer to the back of the classroom.

Stiles barely listened, too busy remaining calm but he did notice when it was his turn. He opened his mouth but nothing came out and so he closed it again. Everyone was looking expectantly at him and Stiles felt how sweat covered his forehead. "Anything to add to that, Mr. Stilinksi?", his professor asked and Stiles weakly shook his head. The professor shrugged and went on, much to Stiles relief.

When the lesson was over Stiles slowly got to his feet and started to walk out of the room. His movements got faster and faster until he was running and he stopped only when he was back at home. His breathing was irrational fast and he felt a panic attack creep up on him so he tried to calm himself down, trying to slow his breaths, to breathe deep but it took a long while until he managed it.

He let himself fall down on the couch and closed his eyes. This day was officially the worst in a long time. Not since he left Beacon Hills because, hello panic attacks on a daily basis, but since a month or so. And that meant something because Stiles carefully avoided everything that could trigger a memory. And even though that was hard to do when your own body is covered in scars he had managed it. But today life obviously wanted to punch him in the face.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when his phone rang and he scrambled to find it. When he finally answered the call it was Ian. "Where are you? Luke said you left after your first class?"

"Yeah, he's right", Stiles said tiredly. "Sorry, I'm at home. I don't feel so well." He could hear chatter in the background and then again Ian's voice. "Okay. Try to get some rest. I'll be home by four." Stiles glanced at the clock on the wall. That gave him five hours to get his shit together. "Okay, I'll try. See you at four. Bye." He ended the call before Ian could respond.

Stiles stood in the kitchen, not knowing what to do with himself. He knew sleep wouldn't be a good idea because there would surely be dreams today and he knew that he couldn't take it. In the end he decided to watch some TV, it didn't require his attention but it would distract him enough.

He settled back down on the couch but after five minutes he knew that this was a bad day because the word bond wouldn't get out of his mind. He remembered how the others in his class had talked about bonds, about feeling connected to their friends or lovers and Stiles couldn't help but laugh. They would never know what sharing a bond mend. Not if they didn't join a pack of werewolves.

There were just so many bonds in a pack. The bond between an alpha and the rest of his pack, amongst the betas, one bond between the emissary and the alpha and then, of course, the bond between mates.

Those bonds all allowed to feel like the other, to _know_ them, to _feel_ them and Stiles had cut them all down. Sure he wasn't a werewolf but since he had been the emissary he still had a connection to all members of the pack, even though they were not as strong as his bond with Derek, the alpha. Or his bond with Peter, who was his mate.

But when the hunters came and tortured him, threatened his family he had cut them all down. After he recovered enough to run, he just suppressed the bonds but it didn't help, they were to strong. So he eventually searched for a spell that would break them and that was very successful.

He wasn't able to feel any of the pack, or Peter and Derek and he had been so relieved. A bond wasn't meant for long distances and the further he got from Beacon Hills the more it had hurt. Not to mention all the feelings from the other end of the bond. But once he casted the spell everything was good.

Sure, he felt hollow but that passed eventually and now he was fine. Missing a big part of his life but if that meant keeping the pack and his dad safe then it was worth it.

The most hilarious part was that he didn't even knew if the hunters stood to their word. They came to the hospital to make sure he left without a word but he never confirmed that the hunters left his pack and his family alone. And he never had the heart to check afterwards.

He knew a spell with which he could find out but he didn't dare. He was afraid what it would do to him if he saw that they were miserable or happy. He knew he couldn't take either. So he remained far away, doing nothing.

But Stiles had come to terms with that. He just imagined that they were reasonable happy without him, that Derek found a new emissary for the pack and that Peter forgave him or even found a new mate. Those thoughts still hurt but he preferred them to the thoughts of them being still miserable.

So Stiles learned to cope without thinking too much about the whole situation. Usually, at least. Today was clearly one of those days that shattered his progress and left him hurt and hollow. It would take a while for him to feel normal again and he had to continue to lie to Ian about him being sick but eventually it would get better. He knew that.

"You're broken and you don't even know it."

The pain that washed over him was so great that Stiles had to close his eyes. It couldn't be Peter. There's no way he could've found him, Stiles made sure of that.

Stiles slowly got up and took a few more deep breaths before he turned around. Peter was, in fact, standing in his living-room. Stiles wavered and had to stabilize himself on the couch.

"It's good to see you, Stiles", Peter said and smiled at him.

"No it can't…. how did you…you have to leave!" Stiles stumbled backwards, away from Peter. He couldn't be here. If the hunters found out they would torture Stiles again and kill Peter or his father. He had to leave now!

When he focused back on Peter he noticed that he watched him intently. Stiles cringed under that stare because he knew exactly what Peter saw. He wasn't the hyperactive, flailing, stupid teenager anymore. He had put on some muscle as a result of his strict training, he held himself perfectly still now, he changed his perfume, he lacked sleep and he was covered in scars. None of these things made Stiles proud.

"You're not sleeping", Peter said and came towards Stiles. "Don't", he said and held out his hand to stop Peter. The urge to touch Peter was overwhelming and Stiles had nowhere to run to since the wall was already in his back. "You have to leave. Now."

"What happened to you?", Peter asked and didn't move an inch.

"What happened to…?" Stiles was stunned. "You don't know? I thought the hunters couldn't wait to tell you."

"No one told us anything. I visited you in the hospital, the next day you were gone. And then our bond broke. How did you do that?" Peter looked quizzically at him. "I…a spell. I used a spell. I though you would think I died."

"If a mate dies, that feels different. You just know when that happens."

"So you thought I abandoned you. You though I just left." Peter shrugged. "We eventually worked it out. But we don't understand why you wouldn't talk to us. We could've helped you."

"No you couldn't", Stiles said, barely suppressing his pain. "I left because of you. Because of Derek, of my father. They would have killed you, all of you. And I could safe you by leaving. There was nothing to talk about. Nothing you could have helped with."

Peter didn't say anything to that but Stiles could see that he disagreed. He knew him to well, even without the bond.

"How…how are the others", Stiles asked reluctantly, not sure if he really wanted to know. "Your dad is well, considering", Peter answered. "He was really crushed when you left but Melissa helped a lot and they are together now." Stiles smiled sadly. That was what Scott and he always hoped for. So this was a good thing.

"And ….the pack?"

"Allisson's now a real hunter. She doesn't care about us anymore."

"What? How did that happen? What about Scott?"

"Scott", Peter started, "well Scott is their werewolf now. He works for them."

"No, he wouldn't, he would never work with them."

"Believe me, he does."

"I don't understand. Why?"

"Because he loves Allison. Why else?" Peter started to walk up and dons. "After you left he clung to her and when she decided to be with the hunters he tagged along." Of course he would. He loved Allison. He would follow her everywhere.

"Boyd and Erica?"

"They left the pack."

"What? They were happy. Why would they do that?" Peter shot him a look. "Not everyone can take the break of a bond as well as you did. It changed Derek. He's not the same anymore. He got cruel and violent. And so they left."

"I…I didn't know that", Stiles stuttered. "I would have sent a note or something. Explained why I had to leave."

"Yeah, well, you didn't."

"What happened to Isaac? Did he leave with Erica and Boyd?"

"No he did not leave", Peter said and turned back to Stiles. Stiles really ached to touch him. But when he made a step forward, Peter stepped back. Stiles looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. Peter looked older, like age had finally caught up with him, and sad. It wasn't in plain side but Stiles could tell that it was there and that it went deep.

He made another step, desperate to smooth away the wrinkles around Peter's eyes but Peter stopped him again. "You can't touch me", he sadly said and only then did it dawn to Stiles just how much he hurt him.

"God, I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry."

"Isaac is dead", Peter said, ignoring Stiles ranting. Stiles stopped dead. "What do you mean he's dead?" Peter looked down. "He tried to get Scott aback. The hunters thought it was an attack and they killed him."

"No", Stiles gasped, tears springing to his eyes. "Why kill him? He's innocent."

"They are hunters, Stiles", Peter's voice was hard. "What did you expect? You know what they're capable of", Peter said with a gesture to Stiles face. "But Isaac was just a sweet kid."

"And he couldn't live with Derek anymore. So he tried to get the only friend he ever had back."

"What did Derek do? He wouldn't just let the hunters get away with it." Peter didn't answer him but the look on his face was answer enough. "He didn't, did he? He went after them."

"Of course", Peter finally said. "What happened to him?" Stiles voice was really small. He didn't want to know. "He died."

"No", Stiles breathed and stumbled back until his back hit the wall again. He needed it to stand up. "No it can't be. I would've known. I would've felt something." Stiles pressed a hand to his chest but he felt nothing. Just pain.

Peter smiled sadly at him. "You severed all the bonds", he said and that explained everything. Stiles chose this. It was his own fault that he didn't know what happened. Stiles tried to keep his breathing normal and he really didn't want to know about Peter. Because there's no way he would've let Derek fight alone.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened to me?", Peter asked and came closer. Stiles weakly shook his head. "No", he whispered.

"Don't you want to know?" Stiles shook his head again. "Please don't." He sunk down to the floor. "Don't", he said weakly.

Peter crouched in front of him. "I went with Derek. I fought alongside of Derek. And I died besides Derek."

"No", Stiles was crying now. "No, you didn't. You're here. Right in front of me." And as to proof that Stiles extended his hand to touch Peter's face and this time he made no move to stop him.

His fingers went right through Peter.

Stiles closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face. "No, no, no", he chanted over and over again. "I just came to let you know," Peter lowly said. He also had tears in his eyes. "You can go home now."

Stiles opened his eyes at that. "There's no home left to go back to", he croaked. Peter didn't say anything to that while he stood up. "Goodbye, Stiles", he said and after one last look he vanished.

Stiles dimly thought that he should cry or shout or wail or something but he couldn't, he was numb.

They were all gone. His best friend betrayed him. His alpha and his mate were dead. There was nothing left for Stiles. Nothing at all. Stiles couldn't even move a finger or get up. So he remained on the floor, leaning against the wall, staring at nothing.

When Ian came home four hours later that was the exact position he found Stiles in. After an hour of talking to Stiles, Ian tried to move him. When Stiles hand fell to the ground, not offering any resistance, Ian knew that this might be Stiles body but that there was no more Stiles. All he came home to was an empty shell.


End file.
